Skins: Hide (Tony's story)
by skinspotter
Summary: After finishing university, Tony is working for the CIA, on a long-term mission in New York, tailing suspected extremists. As the case progresses, Tony convinces his boss to let him follow the terrorists to their group leaders, in Islamabad, Pakistan. But when Tony gets out of his depth, he must call on an old friend to get him back on track.


Skins: Hide - Part One

Tony awoke. He opened his eyes a fraction, and lifted his left hand, and placed it gingerly to his forehead. His head was absolutely pounding. Tony moved his left leg, and was surprised to feel someone's body next to him. He sat up in the bed, and looked at his surroundings. Next to him, passed out in an alcohol induced slumber, were two people, a guy stark naked on top of the covers face down, and a girl topless on his left. Tony released that he was wearing no underwear.

He climbed out of the bed, carefully not to disturb the others on the bed with him, and started to put on his clothes. Tony reached for his phone, and, removing the brightly coloured pills next to it, he picked it up in his hands. He had no idea where he was. Tony opened up the weather option on the phone, and read 'Southampton, NY. 25 degrees, partly cloudy'. Tony cracked a nostalgic smile. Now he remembered.

Last night had been crazy. Tony had gone out for the first time in weeks, and it felt exhilarating. At a club in an old warehouse on the Lower East Side, Tony finally had the chance to properly unwind for the first time. While hanging out at the bar with his friends, he had seen a particularly alluring brunette, and they danced together as the drum and bass music thudded through the exposed brick walls. They kissed, and she had slipped a pill into his mouth. Tony felt alive. After they left the club, very intoxicated, they had all spontaneously decided to go for a drive. The brunette Tony had been dancing with suggested Southampton, New York, "I have a summerhouse there". So they had driven to Southampton, and after some frolicking on the beach, they ended up in her house. After walking through the door, everything was blank. That was all Tony could remember.

Tony left the bedroom, and walked down the stairs. He saw his friends sprawled on the staircase, and he smiled. Deciding not to wake them, he went out of the house, and walked to a bus stop. Tony hopped on a shuttle bus to New York, and told the driver "Midtown please". Tony fell asleep on the ride, and awoke with a jolt when he reached his destination. Tony walked to his workplace, went in, and got to work. With his hangover and feeling half asleep, it would be a very long day...

Leaving work, Tony resolved to go straight home. He lived in a small townhouse in Greenwich Village, and so he jumped on the subway from his workplace in Midtown as usual, and got off at Christopher Street station. Tony then walked the two blocks to his house near Sheridan Square. It had been an extremely stressful day at work. For the past two years, since finishing his joint honours degree in Computing and Physics at Cardiff University, Tony had lived and worked in the US. He was scouted by the CIA while on a year abroad at Georgetown University, due to his cunning, logic, and intelligence, and so was offered a job on graduation, providing he got a first class.

Tony had achieved this, and then, with his degree certificate in hand, he had said goodbye to everyone he knew, and boarded an aeroplane to his new life. After two months of training at the CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia, Tony was posted to his first surveillance mission, monitoring suspected extremists in New York city. "The men you will be following are called Shoaib Ali, and Mustafa Khan," Tony had been told, by the department and NY regional commander Stanford Proctor, "we suspect that they are linked to terrorist group Al-Embab." Tony was told that he would have to relocate to New York for the foreseeable future. "We need your skills Stonem" Proctor told him. As he left the room, Proctor called him, "one more thing. Drop the British accent".

So here he was in New York, three weeks into his assignment, under the alias Dan Jones, an Ohio native who had moved to New York to become a Broadway actor, but was currently working at a sandwich shop. The CIA had chosen the sandwich shop because it was very close to where Khan and Ali lived, and they often dropped into the shop. Tony remembered them being very courteous, very laughy and jokey, and constantly wearing jeans, with no sign of flowy Middle Eastern robes. He was surprised at that. _They don't seem like extremists_, Tony first thought. But then again, appearances could be deceiving. He of all people should known that.

Tony poured himself a drink, and sat down at his desk. He was quite tired, but he had to do this anyway. He put the large headphones on his ears, and opened up his laptop. On the screen was a live surveillance feed of Ali's apartment, and Ali and a bunch of others were sat there with him. He could hear them speaking, but it was not very clear. Tony turned up the volume. They were speaking in Arabic. Carefully trying to draw on his lessons in intermediate Urdu that he took at Cardiff (and Michelle said it would be useless), Tony listened and watched intently, and jotted down key points. _Sinful. Plan. Pakistan._ Then, after four hours of surveillance, he heard a major sentence, in English. "Then it is settled, we will go to Pakistan next week, and meet up with the others at Al-Embab. Wait until they hear what we have planned". Tony was suddenly very awake. He was incredibly excited. Not only had they mentioned the name of the terrorist organisation for the first time, confirming their suspected link with them, but they were planning to go Pakistan, and finalise the plans for a terrorist attack. Tony immediate rang his boss. "This had better be good Stonem" Proctor said, half-asleep. "Believe me sir," Tony said, "it is".

_Two weeks later_

Tony sat in his hotel room in Islamabad, Pakistan, sweaty from the stifling heat. He had stripped down to a vest to try and cool down, but it proved fruitless. Even the electric fan could not remove the problem, however, it provided light relief. Tony put on his headphones, and listened and watched. The CIA had bugged the Al-Embab headquarters, a small, unassuming bungalow in an affluent neighbourhood in suburban Islamabad. Tony was not in luck. Ever since he had arrived, everyone in the group, including Ali and Khan had been speaking in fast Urdu, and he could not adequately understand. Tony was forced to send his surveillance information back to a team in New York, in order for it to be properly assessed. What was more, Tony was having a hard time following his targets. It was hard to be unassuming as a western tourist in Pakistan, and he had come very close to being noticed a number of times. Also, the group rarely met at headquarters, in fact this was only the second time since he had arrived in Pakistan.

Tony had almost no leads. He had no idea what they were planning (well, he had an inkling that it was an bomb, but then that was obvious), or for where it was being planned. He was under extreme pressure. Two days earlier, Proctor had rung him, and given him a warning. "You're coming up short Stonem," he had warned, "and the team back here is having to do your work for you. Get some meaningful leads, or you're off the case". Tony had pleaded, uncharacteristically begging Proctor to give him a chance. "Fine," Proctor agreed begrudgingly, "you have a week". Two days later, and he still had no leads. Tony felt a horrible pang in the pit of his stomach: desperation. For the first time in his life, Tony Stonem was out of his depth. He had nowhere else to turn. Picking up his phone, and swallowing his pride, he dialled a phone number. He, Tony Stonem, was about to ask for help. The person picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey Anwar, it's me," Tony said, "I need your help".


End file.
